Of Dragons, Knights, and Families
by katbybee
Summary: When the beast takes too high a toll, family is the only solace. When one falls, family is there. This is the Companion Piece to my story "Child of my Heart," which deals with the events surrounding the adoption of FF Chet Kelly. You may want to read that piece to understand the relationship between Chet and his twin. As always, I own nothing. OC Deaths Please R/R. For Billie Jo B.
1. The Dragon Stirs

Cap, Mike and Roy were lucky. They had wives and families to go home to when things went wrong. People to comfort and renew them. Chet, too, had family. He would go home to stay with his parents, or visit his siblings or cousins. Johnny, well… Johnny would do what he always did… he would go camping, or date one of the many lovely ladies he kept track of for the occasions he was feeling down. Sometimes he would visit with family, but often, the worse the call, the more he would turn to nature, to his roots.

But Marco was totally alone. No one knew it, but ever since the fist fight last fall with his older brother, at his grandmother's birthday party, when too much alcohol and too many angry words had been exchanged; shame and pain had caused Marco to pull away from the one thing that meant more than anything in the world to him…his family. He had left the party, bloodied and drunk, with his _abuelo's_ * words ringing in his ears: _"¿Cómo atreve usted insultar su familia luchando en el día especial de su abuela? ¿No eres un hombre? ¡Vete! Usted no es bienvenidos aquí!_ "** The fact that the fight had been started by his brother meant nothing to Marco. The pain of his grandfather's words had wounded him deeply, because he knew they were true.

He was careful never to show its cause around his shift-mates, but he was not blind to the fact they did notice _something_ was wrong. Gone were his easy grin and joking ways. He rarely smiled anymore, and he had grown nearly as quiet as "Stoic Mike" Stoker. They were all worried about him, but no one knew what was wrong, or how to approach him. Several times, his partner, Chet Kelly tried, but was gently and sadly rebuffed, when Lopez made it clear the topic was off-limits. Even Cap had learned to steer clear of whatever was bothering his senior lineman, and had decided to just let time heal the problem.

~51~

Everyone was feeling a bit off balance, because early in the shift, Cap had cut his hand badly during a run and it had taken fifteen stitches to close the wound. Although he had protested, Dr. Morton had insisted he go off shift. Because of the recent retirement of a couple of captains, and one promotion of another captain, Chief McConnike simply had Mike Stoker take over the shift as Captain for the duration. He had proven more than capable time and time again, and no one had any doubts he would do so again. Mike promoted Marco up to Engineer for the shift, although they would share the duty if the senior lineman was needed at any point. Marco had been studying for the position for a while and was considering promoting up within the next couple of years.

A probie had been sent in to work with Chet Kelly, as he was considered one of the best linemen around. He might be junior to Marco, but that was only because Marco had seniority on him and was older. Chet was a natural teacher, who enjoyed sharing his knowledge, and was able to make others comfortable quickly. He was surprisingly patient with their mistakes, and though he didn't seem to realize it himself, was highly respected for these skills within the department. He had never caught on to how many times a probie lineman had been sent to him for polishing, and how many times that probie had gone on to become one of the finest lineman in the department. Certain folks in the administration, (as well as his captain and his partner) had realized it long ago, and had been wondering how they could possibly talk Chet into becoming a trainer. They knew, however, that, short of retirement, nothing would ever take the lineman away from the work he loved the best. They would just have to be happy with his part-time expertise. (This suited his captain and his partner just fine, thank you!)

His protégé this time was a very young trainee who had been fast-tracked through the Academy. He had graduated at the top of his class, but had still been well-liked by his older class-mates. He was a Legacy firefighter—three generations on either side of his family, plus graduation from high school at 16, his Fire Science degree at 17, and Academy Graduation at 18. Only one other kid in the history of the Department had pretty much pulled off what Dunlop had, though even younger, and he had had to lie in order to do it. But that was another story… Kelly smiled when he thought about that. ***

His thoughts switched rapidly back to Dunlop. The kid was assigned over at 88's, but then, when Stoker took over the shift, Kelly became Senior Lineman and Rick Dunlop became junior to him for the shift. This was okay. The kid's scores were great, and he seemed like a good kid. Hopefully, he would be steady, and keep his head when it counted. When things got real, and the shit hit the fan, that's when you knew if you had the stuff to make it….Little did Chet know they would find out that very day; the day one ten-floor office building combined with one complete maniac turned everyone's life into a living hell.

They had known it was going to be very big and very bad when they first heard the number of companies that were called out on the first tones. It was for four stations and two battalions to assist the city fire department with an engulfed downtown office building. This was extremely unusual, because normally, those fires didn't get too far out of control, because the designers were careful about building in good fire safety measures. Unless the builders didn't follow the designs, which happened more than the fire inspectors would like. None of that mattered right now. What mattered was once again slaying the dragon before it could destroy innocents. The men of 51-A all felt the familiar adrenaline rush as they raced to the scene. None of them knew that not all of them would be coming back to the safety of the stationhouse after this run. The beast would be claiming her price, and it would be a high price indeed.

~TBC~

A/N: The longer Spanish sentences are translated in International Spanish, through Microsoft Translator. My Spanish is fairly limited, and folks would probably be insulted if I attempted translation myself. ;-)

Also, if some of the story seems familiar, just a reminder, this is an _expansion_ of my short-short story "Sometimes the Dragon Wins" from my series "The Dragonslayers of Station 51." I did use that story directly as a part of this one. I couldn't figure any better way to write the scene.

* _abuelo's_ —grandfather's

** _"¿Cómo atreve usted insultar su familia luchando en el día especial de su abuela? ¿No eres un hombre? ¡Vete! Usted no es bienvenidos aquí!_ "—"How dare you insult your family by fighting on your grandmother's special day? Are you not a man? Go away! You are not welcome here!"

*** See Dianne's "Time to Stop Running." I have adopted her ideas about Johnny's age, with her permission.


	2. An Arsonist Strikes

Mike had sent his two teams inside the building at least an hour before. Marco was working the engine like a seasoned pro. It felt odd to be doing Cap's job, but Mike knew he was up for it. There wasn't time to think; which was a good thing. He just put himself on autopilot, and did what he had to do. He watched carefully as John and Roy brought out a couple of survivors. He was saddened to see one was a Code I, and he didn't look good at all. His paramedics looked like they were holding up okay, so that was something. He moved over beside Roy and waited until he was done assessing his patient.

"Roy, how's it looking in there?"

"Bad, Cap. It's nasty. Looks like she could go any minute. Think most of the people are out. Don't see how that fire got so bad so quick. It's like—"

"Arson." Johnny's voice was deceptively flat, and his dark eyes glittered black. "That damned fire was set. Had to be. There was at least one ignition point on every damned floor, and they went off at the same time too. You can tell by how bad the flames are." He grimly continued treating the badly burned fireman under his care. His shift-mates could see through his professional demeanor. Johnny was as angry as they had ever seen him.

~51~

Mike Stoker realized Gage was right, and decided this was an important piece of the puzzle. If they were dealing with an arsonist, the person could still be on the scene. That was one of the perverse characteristics about arsonists. They loved to watch their work. He jogged towards for Chief Buchanan, the Incident Head of this fire. His elbow was suddenly grabbed by a strongly built young man. The force of the action spun him around and Mike began to protest. The man shook his head and smiled. "Oh no you don't, bud! You don't get to ruin this for me!" The next thing Mike felt was searing pain in his side and then everything went black.

At the same time, Marco, who had been monitoring the gauges, happened to glance up. He saw, as if in slow motion, a blond man grab Mike by the arm. Mike started to say something, the man answered, and Mike suddenly fell in a heap, as the man began to run away. Marco wasn't even aware he was chasing the man until he had tackled him. Eleven brothers, a lot of street football, and pure desperation made him very fast, and the man never had a chance. One hundred eighty pounds of angry firefighter landed directly on top of the man who had shot Mike, though Marco never even knew the man had a gun, since it went skittering twelve feet across the pavement.

The fight was short and spectacular. Marco wound up with a few cuts and bruises and a bloody nose. His opponent ended up unconscious. The next thing Marco was really aware of was that cops were all over the place, and he was being helped over to where Roy was working on Mike. He soon let Johnny know Mike would be okay. Johnny knelt beside Marco, checking him over, cleaning the cuts on his face, which caused Marco to hiss in pain and mutter something Johnny was _sure_ he didn't want translated. Johnny passed him the news about Mike. "Apparently, the bullet got slowed down a bit by his turnout, and bounced off a rib. It was a .22, so that helped. It coulda been a lot worse. He got lucky."

Relieved, Marco glanced over at the police action surrounding the arsonist. "Damn, just like the old neighborhood…"

Johnny grinned. Black humor was the signature of situations like this. "Tell me about it, pal. Guess this means you're the boss now! Good thing _you're_ still all in one piece!" He sat back and surveyed his friend's damaged face critically, and amended, "Well, mostly…!"

~51~

Marco's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't thought about that. Technically, he was third in command, but nothing had ever happened where both Cap and Mike had been out at the same time even at the station, or on any kind of incident, let alone a catastrophe of this magnitude. _"¡Madre de Dios!_ * John, I cannot do this, I don't know what to do!"

"Of course you can, Marco. You've watched Cap and Mike for years. Just…I dunno, go—lead." Johnny gave Marco his trademark grin and went back to work, as there were more casualties being brought to the trauma station that had been set up near their squad. Marco reported into Chief Buchanan and formally took field command of the men of Shift 51-A. He also learned that the men from 51-B as well as several other B shifts had been called in to back up the men who had been called in on the initial four alarms.

At that moment, they heard a horrific crash, and hell on earth began as the upper stories began to crumble. Without another thought as to his abilities, Marco immediately grabbed his HT to get an update on the two men he still had inside the building.

"HT-51, Engine 51…" There was only static. He repeated the call several times, with the same results. He resorted to using their last names, also with no success. He ran back to where Stoker was being readied for transport. He was inside the ambulance, and had been out during the collapse.

~51~

Johnny was in the ambulance with both Stoker and the other Code I.

"Is he conscious?"

"Yeah, he is now," Stoker grimaced wryly from the gurney. "What's happening?"

"Where did you last assign Kelly and Dunlop?"

"Eighth Floor South"

Lopez's heart dropped, but he remained cool. The building had collapsed on the south side, from the tenth floor down to the fifth. Their men were in trapped in there somewhere, and he was their captain now.

Stoker was not stupid. "Trapped?"

Lopez simply nodded, the pain etched on his face. "Gotta go, amigo."

Mike quickly placed a gentle hand on Marco's shoulder for a moment. "You _can_ do this, Lopez. I promise. Go find them."

Marco smiled sadly at Stoker. His chin lifted and he nodded again, determination once again showing in his dark eyes. " _Gracias, mi hermano. Vaya con Dios_."**

Marco allowed his eyes to lock briefly with Johnny's before he jumped out of the ambulance and slapped the closed back door twice. He would _not_ fail the only family he had left.

~TBC~

A/N: * _"¡Madre de Dios!_ " "Mother of God!"

** " _Gracias, mi hermano. Vaya con Dios_." "Thank you, my brother. Go with God."


	3. Darkness

How long do you think it's been?"

"I dunno, couple hours, maybe." Hard to tell in the dark." Chet Kelly was tired. The smoke wasn't making things any easier, but at this point, the trapped men hardly noticed it any more. The concrete holding them in place was concerning them more. Chet was sure his leg was broken, again. He was far more concerned about the other man trapped with him, however.

"We shoulda heard something by now."

"Yeah, I know. I know. Maybe the others are trapped, too." This thought scared him more than anything. It was a big building they were trapped in, and they had been on Eight South during that last collapse. They had fallen a long way. He hated to admit it, but it would have been easier if he had been trapped with someone he knew. He had only met the kid that morning. But then, if it was someone he knew, it would have been Marco, and he wouldn't want Marco here for anything. Marco was his best friend. So did that mean he was glad it was Dunlop instead of Marco over there? He was so confused, and his leg hurt so damned bad… It was easier just to not think…right…sure thing, Kelly! Dunlop… He was so young, and hurt so bad…Kelly knew the kid wasn't going to make it if they didn't get help soon. He could tell by the way the kid's breathing had changed in the last half-hour. _Come on guys…where are you?!_

~51~

It was quiet for a while, and then Dunlop spoke again. "Hey, Kelly, is it true you're the famous Phantom over at 51's?" His voice was strained now, and scratchy.

"Yeah, kid, how'd you know about that?"

"Hell, everybody at the academy has heard about you and your Pigeon! Tell me some stories about some of your pranks…it's not often I get to meet a celebrity."

Chet chuckled at that, and proceeded to tell Rick Dunlop every silly story about his and Gage's prank war he could think of. He had just related the story of causing Gage's boots to erupt into volcanoes, and how even Mike Stoker was involved in the game of hiding the prank's ingredients all over the station, when there came a slight shift in the wreckage, and Ricky suddenly screamed.

"AAArgh…damn, it hurts, Kelly! Oh, God it hurts!" The younger man broke off with a cry… and was silent once again.

"Dunlop…Ricky! Come on, man! Don't give up! Don't leave me alone here. Please, don't leave me…" His own pain intensified after the shifting, and now his arm and shoulder were hurting as well.

All Chet could hear now was Dunlop's ragged breathing. Soon, it turned into an awful gurgling rattle…and then total silence. And Chet knew it was too late. Richard Dunlop, Legacy LACoFD, aged 19, one of the best and the brightest, was dead.

For the first time in a very long time, Chet Kelly cried. At least Gage had had the chance to use the training he had fought so hard for. He had overcome odds that would have stopped older, less determined men cold. This kid, Dunlop, had never had a chance. It wasn't right…it just wasn't fair. And Chet Kelly was ready to let the dragon win, because he was tired of feeding his friends and brothers and the innocents to the beast. He was more tired than he had ever been in his life, and he… was… done… he…. The edges of his consciousness blurred around him, and he gave in to the darkness.

~51~

He woke to voices near him. "Kelly?! Dunlop?!" "51? 88?" "Kelly?! Dunlop?!"

Kelly managed to turn his head and croak out, "Kelly, I, I'm…no, we're… over here…we're over here."

He heard digging and movement as debris and concrete were shoved away from him, and soon he looked up into the worried faces of his shift-mates, Marco Lopez and Roy DeSoto. It took time to free him, and as they worked, he desperately tried to make them understand.

"I-I'm sorry. I tried. I tried to keep him awake. I tried to keep him going. I-I couldn't…"

The pain on their faces told Kelly they already knew. Roy nodded. "You couldn't have done any better, Chet. You kept him from being scared. From being alone. That's all any of us can do. He didn't have to be alone. You did good." Tears were flowing freely down all three faces as they finished preparing Chet for transport.

~51~

Mercifully, they had been able to remove Rick's body first. Chet couldn't see where Dunlop had been trapped, as he was strapped to a backboard with a "c-collar" holding him rigid, but he knew where the spot was anyway. He felt it. He felt Rick's pain, even more deeply than his own. This was the first trainee that he had lost. Even though Dunlop was not officially _his_ trainee, there were certain things Chet took very seriously, and the life of one of his brothers in blue was one of them. _He had failed_. Perhaps, afterwards, if Cap had been there, or even Mike, they would have seen the signs, but they weren't and they didn't.

After the horrible events surrounding of the fire, the members of 51 was granted several shifts off, as they struggled to regroup. 51-B lost two members of their shift as well, two men named Lockman and Reider. They were fairly new to the station, and were not well-known to the men of A-shift, but were brothers, regardless. Their hearts hurt for the men of B-shift, however, as Lockman was Hochrader's son-in-law, and Reider was a close friend of Dwyer's. The Department had taken the unusual step of bringing in full replacement crews for both Shifts A and B for three full shifts with the understanding that if any of the men needed more time, it would be granted. Hochrader was once again seriously considering retirement. If he did, this time, there would be no joking around. No one would blame the man. *

~TBC~

* Reference "Captain Hook," Season 6


	4. Coping and Falling

The men returned to wives and families as they always did. Emily Stanley and her daughters, though Hank was not in the thick of this battle, helped him deal with the guilt of having not been where he felt he was needed. They were there to hold him, and listen to both his silence and his ranting and to leave him to his tears when he needed that, too. But most of all, they were there. The same for Beth Stoker, and JoAnne DeSoto, and their children. They were there for the men of their families, as it has always been, these true heroes, who stand by their men, be they husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, nephews, or cousins. Increasingly, women were joining the ranks, and this would add an entirely different type of heartache and pride to the mix, but these families, these heroes would always stand tall.

John spent his time camping and Marco joined him on a fishing trip. The two got along quite well. Johnny had suspected what the problem was for Marco, but he was not one to push things. Finally, on the second morning, they had started talking about families and memories. Eventually, curiosity got the better of John, and he couldn't resist asking Marco a question.

"So, just how many brothers and sisters do you have anyway? I know the one time I was at your parent's place there was a mob of people."

Marco grinned. "I've got eleven brothers and seven sisters."

Johnny's eyes grew wide in shock. "You kiddin' me, man?"

"Hell, no! I've got 37 first cousins and God only knows how many second and third cousins! You should see family reunions!" Suddenly his smile faltered. "At least, that's the way it used to be…"

Marco confided in Johnny the pain of the loss of the trust and companionship of his family. He had not seen them in over nine months. He had not called them, because although his _abuela_ was the official matriarch of the family, he knew she respected and loved her _marido_ (husband) deeply. So, for him, his _abuelo's_ word was law, and he was an outcast.

Johnny could understand his friend's point. But, he had something to say about the situation... Something Marco had never even considered.

"You said you and your brothers had been drinking quite a bit, right?"

"Well, yeah, it was a _fiesta_ , _amigo_. Even some of my sisters had a few."

John looked Marco squarely in the eye. "So what makes you think your _abuelo_ hadn't had a few too many just like the rest of you?"

Marco blinked and stayed quiet for a very long time. Johnny stayed silent, a small grin playing about his amused features.

~51~

The men of 51-A sincerely hoped the worst was behind them. They had no idea that though death was through with them for now, the nightmare was far from over.

Chet returned to his family six weeks after the incident, with appointments for outpatient rehab, otherwise, he seemed recovered from his ordeal. He decided to stay with his parents for a while. He had seen the department psychologist, and passed the tests they gave him, but they still recommended a few more weeks off. Unfortunately, Chet was quite skilled at saying what the doctors wanted to hear, and equally skilled at hiding his true feelings. Though his family knew the bare details of what he had been through, he was silent and morose. He was closed off emotionally, and this is when his older brother Joey called the one person he hoped could help: Chet's twin sister, Billie Jo. Bil got leave, but it would take time for her orders to be cut and then for her to get to Los Angeles. The best she could do was to be there by military transport in three days' time. Joe was worried. They had not seen Chet like this since he had come back from Vietnam, and he had gone through some terrifying nightmares right after, and some things his family couldn't understand, but if anyone could, Bil could. The problem was, Chet would not stay home. He took to wandering the city at night, and that was when he got into major trouble. His mother got the call from the police. Bil was a few hours too late.

~51~

Chet had ended up in a rundown bar, holding the entire place hostage. He had a gun, and was insisting he was in the jungle surrounding by the Viet Cong. So far, no one had been hurt, but he would not allow anyone to leave or move. Although in his present state, no one had been able to talk him down, the police were hesitant to shoot him too quickly. Fortunately, one of the men responding to the call was LA Sheriff's Deputy Vince Howard, who not only knew Chet, but was a Vietnam veteran himself. He also had been a part of the horror in downtown. He had gotten permission from his captain to try to talk to his friend. He put in a call to Marco Lopez, another friend. Though he knew Marco was off-duty, if there was anybody who could reach Chet, it would be Marco. Near panic, Marco promised he would be there immediately.

"Chet?" Vince tried once again over the bullhorn.

No answer. There had been silence since the whole situation had begun over an hour before. He had not responded to repeated phone calls to the phone inside the bar. Negotiators felt he probably wasn't even aware the phone was ringing.

One of the snipers had eyes on the inside of the bar, but no clear shot at Chet. He did report that no one was being immediately threatened, and that Chet was not pointing his weapon at anyone. He seemed to be hyperaware of the location of each person in the room. If anyone tried to move, he would wave them back and down.

"Chet, buddy, come on. You need to talk to me. It's Vince. You're okay, buddy."

Again, he was met with silence. Marco slipped up by his side. He glanced over at Vince, who quickly filled him on what was happening. Marco nodded grimly. "I know what's happening with him. His sister and I have talked about this. It's happened to him before. I don't know what you call it, but some guys who've been in combat, when something real bad happens to them stateside—well, they sort of—go back to when they were in combat, in a bad sit, or mission or something. It triggers them somehow. You said he's got a gun?"

"Yeah, a patron who left the bar just before he flipped out saw it under his jacket. He said it looked old, like maybe a Colt pistol."

"Well, I know which gun that is. I don't think he'll shoot anybody. It belonged to his grandfather. I know how to deal with this. Bil, his sister is an Army doctor. She sees stuff like this all the time. She saw it happen to him one time before, and she talked him down. Let me go in and try. I think I can do it. He's confused. He needs somebody to come in and take him out of where he's at in his head. I need you to trust me. I need your gun."

"I can't give you my—"

"Load the gun with blanks except for the first shot. If I have to, I'll take him down myself. I do not want one of these guys taking a kill shot at my best friend." Marco's eyes were hard.

Vince stared at him. "You could do that?"

Marco smiled slightly, but his eyes were haunted. "I was a Special Forces sniper for six years, Vince. I can compartmentalize if I have to. I won't kill him, but I won't allow him to hurt anyone either."

Vince felt an icy chill crawl up his spine, but he knew the law. "Sorry, Marco. I can't let you go in there with a weapon of any kind. I doubt they'll let you go in at all. You're not even on duty. If you were, maybe, but as it stands…"

~51~

Marco narrowed his eyes, deep in thought for a moment. He turned and ran up to the Battalion Chief in charge, a man he remembered well from the downtown office building tragedy.

"Chief Buchanan, I need your help. I'm not on duty, but I can help Kelly. I can talk him down and out of the place he's at in his head. I can do it without anyone getting hurt. If I can't, I can keep him from hurting anyone, and I can keep him from getting killed. Please, sir, let me help him. I just need official orders putting me on duty and…" Here he looked at the police incident commander standing next to the chief. He knew this was where it would hit the wall. "…deputizing me temporarily as a police officer. I have the skills. I won't shoot if don't have to, but, I was a Marine Special Forces sniper for six years."

Revealing a secret he had shared with no one but his parents and Captain Stanley, he continued, "I am on a list that says that because of my skills, I can be recalled to duty at any time, for any length of time. I can be called for special missions at the pleasure of the Marine Corps, until I reach the age of 55. I _will_ hit what I aim at, if I have to. There will be no collateral damage. I can save every person in that building—including Kelly. Sir."

Marco watched the looks of shock on the men's faces and waited as they processed the information he had given them. He silently prayed they would really hear what he had said, and then waited for the verdict.

The two men knew the situation had gone on much longer than was safe, and that they might have a chance to conclude it without any casualties, so, though it was highly irregular for both commanders, they decided to try the brave young firefighter's plan. The Police Chief quickly declared Marco Lopez a Special Deputy of the County of Los Angeles, and just to make sure things were covered, LACoFD Battalion Chief Buchanan declared Lopez to be officially on-duty. Both men knew that the eventual paperwork would be an unholy nightmare, but there was no time to consider their unorthodox approach further.

To save Vince from having to be involved in the paperwork snarl, Marco was issued an official sidearm by the chief himself. It was sincerely hoped by all involved he would not have to use it. Marco declined the holster for this and tucked the gun in the back waistband of his jeans, under his jacket. He also donned a bullet-proof vest, which made his jacket fit a bit snugly. Marco then made his slow approach towards the front door of the bar, pausing to cross himself, and pray for both himself, and his hurting friend inside the building, as well as the innocents involved. Buchanan had called Hank Stanley. These were his men, and he had a right to know what was happening. He showed up within fifteen minutes of the call, about the time Bil Kelly arrived.

~TBC~


	5. Far Away

Women are sometimes better at seeing when something is off in a man. Especially when the man is someone you've known for literally all your life. Captain Billie Jo Kelly, USA might be (very) slightly older, but she and Chet were also the closest of all the Kelly clan, even if Bil wasn't always around; due to her duties as an Army doctor, currently stationed at Ft. Patterson, NJ. She had done several tours of Vietnam, and had been over there at the same time as her brother, although he had been in the Navy. When she heard her "little brother" (by all of 17 hours and eighteen minutes) was in trouble, she was granted emergency leave and headed home immediately. Chet might be adopted, but, he was still HER twin, damnit! As far as the family was concerned, they were twins, and no one ever questioned this, including Chet, who had learned the strange circumstances of his inclusion into the Kelly clan years before.*

Right now, Bil was ready to rip a hole in in the side of the cab and run down the street. If it would have gotten her to her brother any faster, she would have. She had hitched a ride with a Marine pilot friend of hers. Her flight had gotten into El Toro at 1700 (5 pm). Her friend had dropped her off at LAX, where he had to meet his wife. Traffic was horrendous. By that time it was nearly 1930. Bil called her mother, intending to catch a cab home. Instead, her mother tearfully told her of the call from the police. Bil headed straight for the bar and her twin.

~51~

Marco nodded to Vince as he reached the door. Vince called over the bullhorn, "Chet, take it easy. Marco's coming in to talk to you. Nobody's gonna hurt you, buddy."

As they expected, there was no answer, but they were relieved when nothing happened as Marco slipped inside the building safely. It was at this point that Captain Stanley and Billie Jo Kelly arrived on the scene. Both made their way quickly to the men in charge. Bil was able to do this as she was in uniform, and nobody wanted to mess with the steely-eyed Army Captain. They all stood silent vigil to see how the next few minutes would play out.

Marco's eyes adjusted to the lighting in the bar quickly. He counted seven people in the room besides Chet. The hostages were all grouped behind the bar, sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall. None showed any signs of injury. They were scared and quiet as they watched Marco approach, but none seemed over the edge with terror. Marco had dealt with hostage situations before, and oddly, none of these people seemed traumatized. None of them were bound, and each had a bottle of water either next to or in front of them. Marco realized suddenly that in some part of his mind, Chet was protecting; actually _caring_ for these people.

Chet himself was across the room, kneeling on the floor in combat stance, faced away from the group, staring out at something only he could see. The gun was held steadily in both hands, in firing position. Though it was obvious by his cocked head and narrowed eyes that had heard Marco enter the room, he had not changed position, and the gun had not twitched even a millimeter. Wherever Chet was, it was a very long distance, and many years away from the grimy floor of the Los Angeles bar.

~51~

Marco, as much as he wanted to, knew better than to try to get too close, or to touch Chet. Touching him would likely only trigger him into sudden physical violence, or into firing the gun.

"Chet? _Mi amigo_ , what's up? Talk to me. Where are you?" Marco whispered to his friend.

Chet was silent, but for the first time, acknowledged the other man's presence. He waved him to the floor, but there was nothing threatening in his manner. It was one soldier signaling to another, "down and silent." Marco remembered the signal well. It meant that Charlie (the enemy) was very close, and lives were in imminent danger.

"What are you seeing?"

"Nothin' man…just jungle. But they're out there. Sneaky bastards're out there. I can hear them. An' I got civs to protect."

Marco was quiet as he thought about how to play this. If he fed Chet's delusions, he risked escalation. But if he tried talking him down too soon, he could risk Chet becoming agitated anyway. And then it came to him…a possible way out…

"Listen, I can help with the civs. We gotta get them outta here…keep them safe, right?"

Chet never altered his stance. He was silent for a long time, struggling with his thoughts.

Marco whispered, "Let me take the civs down the back trail. I can get them all out. I'll make sure they stay quiet. Once they're safe, I'll come back, and we'll secure the perimeter."

Chet nodded tightly and motioned Marco back toward the way he had come.

Marco couldn't help but smirk at the very Chet-like reply: "Just be careful. Keep your ass down, pal."

Marco scrawled a quick note to Vince and handed it to the first man on the floor behind the bar. The note simply said Chet was acting more like himself now and Marco was sure he would be able to bring him out safely. After asking the man to hand the note to the cop with the bullhorn, Marco wasted no time quietly heading the hostages out the door he had come in. He stayed in the open door and immediately shut the door, staying inside, hoping to ensure no one got trigger happy now that the hostages were free. He had also seen Cap and Bil in his brief glimpse outside. That was an enormous relief. No matter how this nightmare ended, Chet was going to need both of them, especially his twin.

~TBC~

A/N: * See my companion story "Child of my Heart."


	6. Bringing a Brother Back

He quietly headed back across the floor next to Chet, who hadn't moved at all. "The civs are safe. They're gone now. Why don't we leave, too? I don't feel like getting a case of lead poisoning tonight. What do you think, Chet? You wanna get outta here? Maybe go get some chow or something?"

Marco stayed silent after this, giving Chet time to process what he had said.

Five agonizingly long minutes passed in silent stillness. Finally, Marco saw Chet's shoulders sag slightly, and he seemed to be breathing deeply and slowly.

Marco risked stepping closer to his friend, but still did not touch him. He moved to one side, quite close, so that he could see Chet's face, but was not in his line of fire. Chet did not look at him, but closed his eyes momentarily, and sighed deeply. Marco stepped closer to him and spoke softly.

"Chet, _mi amigo_ , let it go. It's okay now. I'm here. I'll help you. Give me the gun, _mi hermano_." Marco held his hands together, palms up, out to his friend, and stood very still. He watched as Chet's eyes seemed to lose the distant look and finally begin to focus on him. Slowly, the gun lowered, and was placed gently into his hands. Chet seemed suddenly boneless as his knees buckled under him, and Marco caught him, and lowered him to the floor. Chet sat with his arms around his knees, his head lowered to his chest. Marco could hear his quiet sobs. He glanced over at his best friend.

"¿Ah, mi hermano, lo que ha sucedido a usted? ¿Qué hacemos ahora?" *

Quickly, Marco checked the pistol, and as he had thought, it wasn't loaded. Not only that, the firing pin was broken. Chet had known all along the gun was incapable of firing. This brought up some scary thoughts all on its own. For now, he had one final test to see if Chet was ready for anyone to come into the room. He gently touched him on the shoulder. Chet never even noticed. That was all the confirmation Marco needed that his friend was safe for now.

He spoke softly, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

~51~

Marco slowly opened the back door and called for Cap and Bil. He knew that since they were the two Chet knew best, they would be the best choice for right now. He explained the situation to the two of them as best he could. Bil went in to be with her brother. She could provide comfort, as well as assess him until they could determine the best course of action, although she would not be allowed to treat him. A paramedic team was on standby to take over when needed.

The hostage's statements were being taken. Clearly, all of them were shaken, but none of them seemed to feel the young man had threatened them in any manner. He asked them not to leave, and had explained to them that he was trying to protect them. They all agreed that he had never once pointed the gun at any of them. He had provided water to each of them from the bar, and had only asked that they remain quiet and stay still. He had not hurt them or even raised his voice to any of them. He had even had two of the men gather cushions from the seats so they would be comfortable, although he seemed to believe they were inside a tent, and it was pillows they were gathering. He had also referred to the bar itself as a barricade. He had promised to attempt to go to another tent to gather rations for the group. Clearly, he had not been hostile at any point. He had genuinely feared for their safety. Small details varied, but all the statements were essentially the same. He had told them they were under threat from the enemy, and he would protect them. He was at no time _their_ enemy. And they were grateful his friend was there both to lead them out and to help take care of his friend.

The bartender, himself a veteran stated flatly that he knew what Kelly, one of his regulars, had been through, and refused to press charges. Apparently, he was not alone in his feelings. There was only one woman in the group, a middle-aged mother, with a son about Chet's age. None of the patrons wanted to press charges. A tragedy had been averted, a troubled young man would get help, and that was good enough for them.

~51~

Once it was clear the threat was over, the police and fire teams were dispersed. The paramedics transported Chet to Rampart, with Bil riding in the front of the ambulance. Cap and Marco followed, Cap promising to bring Marco back to his car, as Cap wasn't sure Marco should be driving quite yet. Marco filled his captain in on all that happened inside the bar. They also discussed the fact that now Chief Buchanan and Vince Howard knew Marco's Marine Corps status.

This was not something Marco was comfortable having generally known. It was more than just that he could be recalled at any time. It was because he felt his skills could make people uncomfortable or look at him differently. It was why he never participated in any of the offers to go hunting with his friends in the department. It was also why only Captain Stanley had ever seen his many marksmanship medals and trophies.

Pragmatic as always, Cap could only offer one piece of advice: "Well, judging by what happened tonight, and by the fact that reporters were all over the place, guess you better figure people are gonna talk. Maybe even the Brass. Better plan on people finding out. And if they do, guess you're just gonna have to deal with it, Lopez."

Cap had called Mike, Roy and Johnny before he left home, promising to keep them updated. He knew with the police presence that the media would likely get involved, and he did not want his crew learning about this from television or the newspaper. He prepared to go into protective mode as he drove to the hospital. He would call his crew again from the hospital. He was a veteran himself, and had heard of similar things happening. He just wished it hadn't happened to one of his men…

~TBC~

A/N: * "¿Ah, mi hermano, lo que ha sucedido a usted? ¿Qué hacemos ahora?"—Ah, my brother, what has happened to you? What do we do now?


	7. Family Gathers

As Cap had expected, the rest of 51-A was at Rampart's Emergency Room when he and Marco followed the ambulance and the squad into the Emergency Entrance. They parked in the employee's lot, knowing Cap's LACoFD sticker would keep them from being towed from the lot. Marco barreled out of the car almost before Cap had gotten the car stopped.

The two men rushed inside, and joined their men in the familiar waiting game. Dixie McCall, the indomitable Head Nurse, and a good friend of theirs came to them, concern in her lovely eyes.

She looked at Hank. "Joe is with him. I'm not sure what's going to happen. I would imagine they'll call in whoever they need…" she broke off painfully, not wanting to say the words, the thing everyone was thinking, so Marco said it for her.

"They'll call in a psychiatrist." He said it almost like a four-letter word. His eyes were flat and bitter. "And if they're not careful, they'll send him farther over the edge than he already is!"

He turned away from his friends, his shoulders slumping in despair. Dixie flashed a knowing glance at the others and went to her friend, taking him gently by the arm. "Look, Marc, I haven't had my break. Why don't you come and buy a girl a cup of coffee, hmm?"

Marco shot a frown at the pretty blonde and started to shake his head, but Dixie was having none of it. She had too many years practice with "her boys" to be put off that easily. She took his arm and guided him down the hall to the staff breakroom, telling him "They know where to find us."

~51~

The others crowded into the Emergency Waiting Room. They managed to be able to take over one corner of the room, where they found Bil Kelly waiting morosely. Introductions were made all around by Captain Stanley, who had found himself very impressed with the way the tall flame-haired Army doctor had handled the situation at the bar. She had gone into her brother, and talked quietly with him, and held him, keeping him calm while the paramedics had checked him out and gotten him ready to transport.

There was definitely a connection between the two, although it was surprised they were related, since they really didn't look much alike. All the men were shocked when Billie Jo, or Bil, as she preferred to be called, referred to Chet as her twin. Chet had dark reddish-brown, riotously curly hair, greenish-grey eyes, and was short and stocky. Bil was tall, and slender, with a nice figure. She had flame red hair, so bright it nearly glowed. Judging by the severely pinned up military hairstyle, it was also straight and quite long. Her eyes were so green they almost had an icy tinge to them. She was also beautiful and apparently single. It was a testament to the worry they all were feeling for Chet, that Johnny had not even spoken to her once, beyond acknowledging their introduction.

Roy was intrigued by her statement about them being twins and he asked about it. She smiled and simply said, "Did Chet ever mention he was adopted? I know he doesn't keep it a secret."

Roy and the others shook their heads. "Well, sometime, get him to tell the story. It's pretty interesting. We were born within the same 24 hours, and as far as our whole family is concerned, we are twins." She smiled, but in a way that made them realize the subject was closed.

By this time, Dixie had brought Marco out to join the others, and he seemed like he was feeling a bit better. Dixie left to go check on Chet.

Marco looked at them briefly before sprawling into one of the uncomfortable orange vinyl seats. "Hey, guys."

Cap glanced at him. "Better?"

" _Si_." His weary smile flashed momentarily. "Nurse Dixie worked her magic."

Hank smiled back. "Good." He said no more, because he knew there was nothing more he _could_ say.

~51~

About an hour later, Dr. Joe Early came out to the group. They all got to their feet, and Cap introduced Joe to Bil. She then quickly gave Joe permission to speak to everyone regarding her brother's condition. That Joe had asked came as a bit of a shock to the others, until they realized that their friend had not been injured on the job. What he was facing was a very different set of circumstances. And Bil was listed as his next of kin.

Joe unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, a sure sign he was uncomfortable with the information he was sharing. "The good news he has been fairly cooperative. I did have to lightly sedate him when he was first admitted, due to his level of agitation. Basically, I think he is heartbroken and mortified over what happened. From what I can gather of his story, these flashbacks have happened to him a couple of times before, but never to this degree, never this severe. This time, I believe the trauma he suffered at the office building disaster has been eating at him, and eventually it internalized to the point that he suffered an episode of delusions of being back in Vietnam under enemy fire. Essentially, he was not in that bar with other patrons. He was protecting a group of civilians whom he was responsible for keeping safe from the enemy.

"His memory of the delusion itself is extremely disjointed and sketchy. He doesn't remember most of it, nor does he remember leaving his house or taking the gun to the bar. That isn't good; but not really surprising at this point. I do not believe he is a danger to anyone, nor do I believe he will hurt anyone else, _as long as he gets some intensive therapy_ …"

There were heavy sighs of relief and smiles all around until Dr. Early raised a cautionary hand and continued.

"However, I am **not** a psychiatrist, nor am I an expert in this area of medicine. I am calling in experts in this field, and together we will see he gets the best care possible."

Joe watched as faces fell all around except for Billie Jo's. She seemed to have known what to expect. Joe continued with his assessment.

"Make no mistake. Legally, since no charges were filed against Chet, that area seems to be not so much a concern at this point. But our young friend is definitely not out of the woods. Not by a long shot. This is definitely a one day at a time situation. And I'm afraid I have no real answers right now."

~TBC~


	8. Mama Fix

As Joe Early had predicted, Chet's recovery would be long and arduous. Complicating the issue was the fact that at the time, although many Vietnam vets were having similar issues as Chet, the government agencies tasked with caring for veterans had no "official" diagnosis* available to help care for veterans suffering from flashbacks or other combat-related psychological problems. There were many outside research studies at that time were showing that a combination of "combat fatigue" and subsequent major acute stress episodes were causing situations such as what had happened to Chet. Unfortunately, there was no organized diagnosis, and help was simply not available through government channels.

Fortunately for Chet, there were some excellent psychiatrists available through Rampart who did have a grasp on the situation. There was a particular doctor, named Charles Robertson who had been monitoring the DSMII* situation, as he himself was a Korean war veteran, and understand the terrible situation the Vietnam veterans found themselves in. He had made the current research into combat fatigue and stress his area of expertise, and was doing all he could for his patients. He had read Chet's medical file, and the reports of what had occurred on the night of his flashback, and he was confident he would be able to help the young firefighter regain his life…if Chet was willing to open up to him. It would not be easy, and it would not be pretty. Dr. Robertson decided his first step would be to head to Room 212 to meet his new patient.

~51~

In the meantime, Marco had been giving Johnny's words a lot of thought. He knew that his _abuelo_ , like the rest of the men in his family, tended to not handle his alcohol terribly well, which is why none of them were heavy drinkers, and usually drank only at family gatherings and fiestas. It was also why they always made sure there were plenty of sober friends and relations around to drive those who chose to drink home. Marco and his cousin Antonio Sanchez, a patrol cop with Central Division in Los Angeles had seen way too much tragedy in their careers to allow their loved ones to cause a drunk driving accident.

What if Johnny was right and his grandfather was regretting his words, just as much as Marco was hurting over his own actions that day? One other common trait the Lopez men carried was their legendary stubbornness. Much to the chagrin of the women in their lives, none of them were good at admitting they were wrong about anything, or would be the first to apologize. Mama Lopez, _Abuela_ , the beloved matriarch of _La Familia_ , realized it was time for Mama to speak.

Word quickly spread throughout the clan that Mama wanted everyone together, and that it was _not_ for a fiesta. Bye the tone of her message, no one would dare miss this meeting. Everyone knew Mama meant business. She quietly tasked her nephew Antonio with making sure that Marco would be there that evening. Mama had made her decision. She knew her husband was hurting with what he had done, and if she knew her _Marquito_ , he was hurting just as badly. It was time to bring Marco back into his family. This was where Mama's only English would best come into play. For they were her favorite, and the only words that mattered: "Mama Fix." And these two words indeed, brought Marco home.

~51~

Six Months Later

Chet woke up sweating. He was staring at the ceiling. He couldn't do this. There was no way. He took a deep breath and turned off the alarm. As he started his coffee pot and trekked to the shower, he thought about calling Dr. Robertson and ditching the whole thing…just going back to bed. What if it happened again? What if it turned out he couldn't do his job after all?

As he padded into his kitchen to pour his coffee and make some toast, his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Good Morning. It's Doc. How are you this morning?"

"Peachy…actually…scared to death."

"I know. That's why I called. Remember what we talked about. You _can_ do this. You are ready. If you need me, just call. Your captain knows what to watch for; but I honestly think there won't be any problem. Otherwise, I wouldn't have signed you off for duty, Chet. I'll call you later in the week."

Chet sighed heavily. "Okay. Thanks."

He hung up and finished getting ready for work. He had decided to dress in his uniform at home this time, to minimize any trauma reactions at the station. He did fine until he had buttoned his shirt and reached for his badge. His hand began to shake, and images of Dunlop ran briefly through his mind. He sadly acknowledged them, and put them from his mind, as he pinned the badge, and his nameplate firmly in place. He grabbed his jacket, and headed out for his first day back on the job.

~51~

The rest of 51-A was sitting around the table, drinking coffee and waiting for the last remaining member of their shift to show up. It had been a long six months, and they had all missed him. No one was really sure how things would go, but they all knew they just wanted their family back intact. Conversation was quiet and strained as the men went about their early morning routine. Mike was making a second pot of coffee when the welcome sound of Chet's VW van came chugging into the lot.

Hesitantly, Chet walked in the door leading to the kitchen, still feeling nervous. He looked around at the smiling faces. Johnny grinned especially wide, and quipped, "Well, well, will ya look what the cat dragged in!"

Chet's chin came up as he looked into his Pigeon's eyes, and the Phantom suddenly knew—he was home.

~51~

Sometimes the dragon wins the battle…but the knight _always_ gets in the last blow. Remember, too, when the knight is wearing armor made of love…a mother's love; any loved one's at all, but most especially his brothers'…then, fallen knights are remembered, armor is strengthened, and ultimately, love is the only armor the dragon _cannot_ defeat.

~The End~

A/N: *To understand the history of "combat fatigue," "gross stress reaction," the DSMII situation, and some of the difficulties faced by our Vietnam and "peacetime" Veterans (such as my David [see my endnote]) please see "Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: A History and a Critique" by Nancy C. Andreasen, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences. There are many other excellent resources, as well.

Endnote: Thanks to David, my technical advisor for this story…my first love… you're always in my heart…how I wish we'd understood what was happening back then but, you're still one of my besties!


End file.
